


Brittle Warmth

by RemixConstellation



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic, Sharing a Bed, Winter, legal magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 11:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16742722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemixConstellation/pseuds/RemixConstellation
Summary: “You’re ice cold, Mordred.” Merlin hisses. He rolls over though, and grabs Mordred, rolling so that he’s caught the younger man beneath him. He kisses him just behind his ears, runs his hands over Mordred’s shoulders, trying to rub warmth into him.





	Brittle Warmth

Winter punches through Camelot angry and vengeful. He came without warning and without cause, surprising a kingdom still sweltering in their sheets. Merlin is glad for the prosperity and good harvest, (and the magic that keeps the stores stocked) but he slinks to his room each evening stiff and achy and cold to his bones. 

Arthur is of a mood; someone has whispered in his ears that winter is now the work of a vengeful sorcerer, not an early but natural occurrence. He’s driving Merlin absolutely mad, begging him to “charm this” and “spell that!” 

Arthur is right to be a little concerned, though Merlin has yet to admit this to him. He doesn’t think anything malicious is occurring, but the nights have all been clear and bright, despite the snow pillowing on the ground. Six inches met him this morning, but he’d never heard the wind whistling. 

He slinks into his bed, shivering so hard he thinks his teeth might chip. A quick whisper and there’s a fire roaring in the hearth. He cannot sleep though, despite the exhaustion stuck to his core. All he can think of is the section of the lower town he needs to cast warming charms over tomorrow, and the food stores he’ll need to preserve. He really should check on the stables, make sure the hay isn’t frosted and he promised Percival a salve for an old wound. 

His room, basking in the glow of his be-spelled flame, quickly grows too warm. But he’s far too lazy to do anything more than strip himself of his shirt. 

He’s finally drifting to sleep, swathed in warmth and whispers, when the door to his chambers opens. There’s the rustle of clothes dropping to the floor, someone tripping over Merlin’s boots, his poorly placed rug. Then the sheet is being lifted off of him and cool air slices across his back.

Someone tucks themselves against him, cold feet curling between his calves and a chest as icy as the caves up north settles against his back. 

“M-mordred?” Merlin ask, the cool chasing sleep from him.

“Go back to sleep, Merlin.” The younger man answers, He kisses the nape of Merlin’s neck and ghost his icy fingers over Merlin’s chest, despite his orders. 

“You’re ice cold, Mordred.” Merlin hisses. He rolls over though, and grabs Mordred, rolling so that he’s caught the younger man beneath him. He kisses him just behind his ears, runs his hands over Mordred’s shoulders, trying to rub warmth into him. 

“Arthur has kept me busy in the fields. The snow is thick tonight.” Mordred says it quiet, but it echoes loud in the stone room. Merlin hums against his skin, leans down and nibbles at his jaw. He’s too tired to do much tonight, and he can feel the same exhaustion in Mordred’s slow strokes down his back. Merlin doesn’t bother to do more than suck a bruise into his jaw before he’s arranging them in a twisted cocoon of skin, bones, and warmth. 

Mordred is nearly asleep, fingers twisted in Merlin’s hair when he says “Are you ever going to admit to Arthur we accidentally set off the early winter?” 

Merlin snorts, runs fingers through dark curls. “And admit we had sex using enchanted lube right in front of his magic mirror?” 

Mordred huffs a laugh, and they fade. Snow continues to mysteriously build on the grounds of the king’s castle.


End file.
